


you are everything

by teaandjam



Category: Wooden Overcoats
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, The Office AU, and rudyard is pam, basically chapman is jim, but i love this podcast !!, i can't write anything but AU's apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-18 19:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11296845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandjam/pseuds/teaandjam
Summary: Snapshots of a blossoming romance in the Dunder Mifflin Piffling Brancha chapyard The Office AU





	you are everything

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends!! i'm back again with a quicker one. shout out to my roommate quinn for introducing me to the office and changing my damn life?? also huge huge HUGE thanks to razzledazzy for beta-ing the shit out of everything i write: this one's for you meka. this is somewhat inspired by annalikestotalk's fic (the rudyard in the morning part is for sure), but it definitely gave me the motivation and made me remember why i love this pairing so much. and a HUGE shoutout to all the chapyard people in the wooden overcoats discord server! pheonix, savannah, lynn, and the rest of the crew, you guys are the best. so much love <3

Rudyard opens the blinds of the office windows to try and get some sun into the artificially lit room. He does this every morning, and yet he never seems to remember that the window opens to the brick wall of the building next door. He grumbles slightly before heading back to his reception desk near the entrance to get ahead on some filing.

This is his favourite time of the day. Rudyard makes sure to arrive at 9:00am sharp (if not earlier), as literally everyone else who works at Dunder Mifflin Piffling comes in at least half an hour late for their nine to five. He enjoys the tranquility of the empty space, with no one demanding things of him or making lewd comments about him or leaning over his desk and making boring small talk.

The latter is the worst: Eric Chapman, the salesman that constantly comes up to his desk, leaning over it like he owns the place, and halting Rudyard’s focus from doing any actual work. It’s hard to do your job when someone _that beautiful_ has got his gorgeous arms over your desk all day—even if said someone is also wearing a truly awful sweater vest. If a man can pull that off, he _has_ to be an angel.

As Rudyard mindlessly shoves paper into other, larger pieces of paper, he breathes in the recirculated and conditioned air and wonders—for what seems like the billionth time—why he still works there.

***

“ _God_ what I would give to tape Nigel’s mouth closed sometimes…” Eric says absentmindedly, leaning over Rudyard’s desk and looking back at Customer Service Representative Nigel Wavering’s desk, “He just goes on and on doesn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t know, Chapman,” Rudyard quips back, “I’ve gotten so good at tuning _you_ out it’s translated to everyone else in the office. It helps me cope when I remember my only job here is babysitting Desmond.”

“Yeah I can’t imagine, it’s a miracle he gets anything done…” Eric laughs, “Lucky he’s got you to look out for him.”

“I guess so…” Rudyard says, “I don’t know, sometimes I would rather be dead than do this job.”

“I’m not sure, I don’t really like thinking about death to be honest,” Eric says with a shudder, “Do you know what they do to you when you’re embalmed? I was reading an article about it…”

“Why am I not the littlest bit surprised that in your spare time you were reading about morticians…” Rudyard scoffs, “Who’s the research for Chapman? How are you going to take Nigel out?”

“Don’t be ridiculous…” Eric says with a smile, relaxing into their casual teasing routine, “You would obviously be the first to go—out of scientific curiosity of course! I want to see how long Desmond lasts without you…”

“That _would_ be interesting…” Rudyard concedes, rolling his eyes to maintain some level of fake-annoyance.

“Anyways, as I was saying _before_ we were talking about my hit list,” Eric smirks, “Morticians, when you die, have to pass a suture through your septum and tie it to your lower lip to keep your mouth closed. Isn’t that kinda fucked up?”

“I mean yeah, a little, but it would be better than having your dead relative’s mouth hanging open like a fish during the funeral…”

Rudyard and Eric look at each other for a moment, before Eric bursts into laughter. Rudyard rolls his eyes and tries his best to look annoyed with Eric laughing at him, but as Eric doubles over, tears streaming down his face, Rudyard can’t stop the corner of his mouth from turning up.

***

During a break between Rudyard and his sister Antigone’s bickering at dinner the next night, her girlfriend Georgie manages to sneak some regular dinner table talk into the conversation.

“Did you hear the antique dealer, Stanley Carmichael died?” She says between mouthfuls of peas, “I mean, I never knew him, but in such a small town it’s kind of crazy when things like this happen. It’s not often someone around here passes away…”

“That’s too bad…” Antigone says, lacking the feeling that phrase usually carries, “I wanted to buy that sundial from him.”

“Ugh, can we not talk about death please?” Rudyard complains, “I’m trying to eat.”

“This coming from the boy who used to burn ants with a magnifying glass for fun.” Antigone says rolling her eyes, the classic move of the Funn family it seems.

“I was always sorry, you saw me cry that one time,” Rudyard protests, “I don't know, Chapman just told me this kinda gross thing and I don’t want to think about it.”

“Eric Chapman?” Georgie asks, scandalized, “Why were you talking to Eric Chapman? I thought you hated him…”

“I do!” Rudyard panics, “I do… I don’t know, we were just making small talk, complaining about co-workers, that kind of thing. I mean, it’s not like I’m in _love_ with the man”

“Sure,” Antigone deadpans, “But, it might mean you’re _friends_ with him…”

Rudyard shudders as he realizes she’s probably right.

***

Rudyard feels a brush against his shoes. He looks down, and sees something he definitely wasn’t expecting, despite crazy shit happening in this office nearly on the daily.

“Don’t look down here!” Eric whispers loudly from below the desk, “I’m hiding.”

“You’re interrupting my solitaire game is what you’re actually doing.” Rudyard mutters, eyes glued to his computer monitor.

“Agatha’s on a warpath,” Eric shudders, thinking of his sales partner, “I didn’t meet sales goals this quarter and I think our bonuses our going to get cut. The only way I’m going to make this better is to sleep with her, and I’m not ready to sell my soul…”

“I hear that…” Rudyard says absentmindedly, trying his best to concentrate on the solitaire game he was playing and not on Eric Chapman on his knees in front of him talking about sex.

Then Rudyard feels a finger brush his ankle, and a shiver runs from his calf all the way up his back and to his neck. He tries to focus on that gross undertaker fact Chapman had told him way back when, as that sometimes works when he catches Eric stretching, his sweater vest and dress shirt coming untucked to reveal creamy skin. However, Rudyard’s body wasn’t having any of it today.

“Do you shine these?” Eric mused from below the desk.

“What?”

“You’re shoes,” He says running his finger around the edge of Rudyard’s black dress shoe on his ankle, “Do you shine them?”

“Of course Chapman,” Rudyard says, trying his best to keep the shakiness out of his voice and sound confident, “We can’t _all_ wear suede loafers to work.”

“They’re nice,” Eric whispers, “Yours, I mean. They, uh, look good.”

“I’m sure everything looks good to you, Mr. Sweater-vest.” Rudyard said, trying not to let the compliment go to his head, as well as other places, “You wouldn’t know taste if it bit you in the ass.”

Eric makes a strangled sound and Rudyard has to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to distract him from other circumstances when that noise could be made.

“Rudyard I’m serious,” Eric says, trying his best to hold back laughter, “You know how loud my laugh is, you cannot blow my cover.”

“Yeah?” Rudyard says, eyes still glued to his computer screen, but solitaire game forgotten, “What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll owe you a favour…” Eric almost sings, taunting him.

“Hmmm tempting,” Rudyard tries to hide how tempting it actually is, “I guess if you’ll be in my debt, I’ll let you stay here.”

At that exact moment, Agatha Doyle walks up to Rudyard’s desk and stops, an intimidating scowl on her face.

“Hello Agatha, care for a sweet?” Rudyard says sarcastically, yet turns the jar of jellybeans he keeps on his desk towards her.

“I am repulsed that you would even call that a sweet,” Agatha scoffs, “I’ll make this brief as I don't actually want to talk to you, but I’m looking for Eric.”

“Eric…” Rudyard pretends to think, “Oh, Chapman? Yeah I _thought_ it was blissfully quiet and free of annoyance in here…”

Rudyard feels a punch to his shin and tries not to visibly wince.

“No I haven’t seen him,” He says with less enthusiasm.

“Hmmm,” Agatha ponders as she walks away, “Suspicious, one could say…”

“Goodbye, I guess.” Rudyard says to the empty air where Agatha stood a moment ago, and sighs. Eric crawls out from under the desk and sits cross-legged beside Rudyard’s chair, placing his chin on the top of his briefcase, which he is hugging.

“God she really is the _worst_ ,” Eric exclaims as quietly as he can, “She didn’t even say goodbye? That is _so_ rude I can’t believe—”

“Don’t stress about it.” Rudyard says resigned, starting to gather up his paper. He is used to his co-workers treating him like a tool or an object, but with Chapman there rubbing it in, it stings a little more than it normally does.

“Ugh, some people…” Eric says as he stands up, “I’m gonna head out a little early before Agatha comes back and catches me as I leave, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure Chapman.” Rudyard says, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“Goodbye Rudyard, enjoy yourself.” Eric says, as he gives Rudyard a small, yet sincere smile.

“See you, Eric." Rudyard says before he can stop himself. He looks up to find Eric with a blush that is probably as deep as his own, before watching him light up into the biggest shit-eating grin Rudyard has ever seen. Eric then ducks his head almost embarrassed, before heading out the door.

Needless to say that Rudyard did not get much work done in the last 15 minutes of his shift.

***

Eric walks into the break room to find the General Manager Desmond, Nigel, and Tanya and Bill from Accounting all huddled around the water cooler, gossiping.

“Howdy all,” Eric says walking up to the group.

“Oh, hello Eric!” Desmond says fondly, “How are you?”

“Pretty good thanks, Dezzy!” Eric says, chipper as always, “What are you guys talking about? Any drama I should know of?”

“We’re just trying to figure out if Rudyard is gay…” Nigel says, a scandalous tone in his voice.

“What?” Eric says, dumbfounded.

“He definitely is!” Tanya insists, “No straight man leaves his shirt buttoned that low, or cares that much about his appearance in _general_ … Women have a sense for these things, you know.”

“But he doesn’t act interested in any of the guys in the office!” Bill argues.

“Well, he doesn’t really act interested in _anyone_ from Dunder Mifflin, really…” Desmond argues, “He certainly didn't seem to like it when I flirted with him.”

“That’s because you only made gross comments about his ass you pervert.” Nigel said fondly, giving Desmond’s butt a pinch and causing him to squeal, making everyone else in the room extremely uncomfortable.

“This is ridiculous you guys.” Eric attempts to mediate, “If he were gay, I would know it. Gay people can smell each other a mile a way. There’s no way he’s attracted to guys.”

Eric’s statement goes completely ignored by the rest of his co-workers.

“You know, it doesn’t matter if he _is_ gay or not,” Bill almost whispers, “It’s not like anyone, male _or_ female, is going to date _Rudyard._ ”

“Why do you say that?” Eric defends.

“Are you kidding?” Tanya giggles, “It’s Rudyard, for Christ’s sakes. I don’t think I’ve met someone as unpleasant as that man in my entire life!”

Murmurs of agreement spread through the group.

“You guys _really_ don’t like Rudyard?” Eric says, still confused.

“Of course not,” Tanya says, “We all think you are _so brave_ for talking to him and taking pity on him… None of us ever could.”

“Yes Eric,” Nigel says, “It’s so kind that you two chat so much. You should be given Humanitarian of the Year just for putting up with him!”

Everyone around the water cooler laughs, except (of course) for Eric, who is still confused and significantly unsettled by this whole interaction.

As the group continues gossiping and complaining about Rudyard, Eric walks to the vending machine to get a snack—hunger almost, but not quite forgotten in the midst of the gossip.

Eric wonders if he really _is_ talking to Rudyard out of pity, before deciding that no, he actually _does_ enjoy the other man’s company. How can no one see how great Rudyard is? Sure, he does have a very prickly exterior, but if you take that as a challenge, you find a charming, funny, and ultimately caring man underneath it all.

Eric walks away from the group and out of the lunch room, undeterred by the nasty things they are still saying about Rudyard. One thing does stick, though:

The fact that Eric Chapman might have a chance with him.

He hadn’t even considered the fact that Rudyard might be gay. Looking back at it now, all the signs are there. The perfect coiffed curls, the black button ups with more buttons undone than is maybe appropriate for a work setting—the shine of his _shoes_ should have given it away.

But Eric couldn’t let himself dare to hope. The probability that he was projecting his own sexuality on Rudyard was high, but now that he knows others have seen it too…

Well, he has lots to think about.

***

“Chapman, I need to cash in that favour. How good are you at planning pranks?”

The rush of joy that spread through Eric’s body was almost palpable.

“I happen to be amazing at it,” Eric beams at Rudyard, who was sat on the corner of his desk, “What’s the occasion?”

“First of all, I want you to know that normally I would never come to you with such a thing, but it’s an emergency” Rudyard said, feigning a blasé attitude, “I need to get back at my sister, her and her girlfriend tricked me into thinking I had received a love letter, and I need to get back at them.”

“Oooooh,” Says Eric, now intrigued, “Who was the fake love letter from? A secret admirer... or a crush?”

“Does it matter?” Rudyard says, obviously annoyed, “Look, I just need something really good to get back at her.”

“What does she do for a living?”

“She’s a receptionist too, at Crusoe Mechanics.”

“The Crusoe Mechanics in _this_ building?” Eric asks, surprised.

“Yeah, her girlfriend’s the manager there. We carpool every day.”

“Is that why you’re always in so early?”

“What?” Rudyard asks, finally paying attention to what Eric is saying, “No… what? How do you know how early I come in?”

Eric flounders for a moment before Rudyard shakes his head.

“You know what, it doesn’t matter,” He says, “Listen, I just need to know what I can do to get her back. Something really good…”

“I’ll tell you what, if you can get keys to the office, I think I might have a plan.” Eric says mischievously.

“This better be worth it…” Rudyard says.

By the end of it, Rudyard would say it was worth it. Not only to see Antigone’s face when she saw all of her (usually) precisely placed office appliances encased in a layer of gelatine: the sleepless night spent in Dunder Mifflin’s break room making Jell-O molds with Eric Chapman, to Rudyard, was priceless.

***

Eric nervously pulls down his sweater vest with one hand and holds the bouquet in the other.

“For me?” Rudyard says suspiciously, “I’ve seen your evil mastermind side Chapman, what’s going to pop out of these flowers…”

“Nothing!” Eric says, trying not to sound frantic, “I meant to give them to your sister to apologize for putting her stapler in Jell-O, but she wouldn’t accept my apology _and_ she didn’t have a vase so…”

Eric shoves out the hand with the flowers awkwardly, praying his cover story is believable.

“For you,” He borderline exhales, “I thought they’d look nice on your desk anyways.”

“Yeah, I uh…” Rudyard starts, for once in his life lost for words, “I love them. I mean, I’ll get some water for them right away.”

Rudyard leaves Eric awkwardly holding the bouquet, before he comes back with Jerry from HR's heavy duty water bottle and places the flowers inside.

“Thank you, Chapman.” Rudyard says, almost fondly, “They’re beautiful.”

Eric bites his tongue to stop himself from saying something stupid, before nodding and turning back to his desk, trying to stop the blush that is creeping up his neck.

Meanwhile, Rudyard looks at the flowers. Lilies, his favourite flower, a wonderful coincidence. He puts his nose to the bouquet and takes a deep inhale in, revelling in the lovely scents of the flowers, which is when he feels his cheek brush against something that was not a flower.

Rudyard picks the card up, and turns it over in his hands. It’s one of those cards the local florist puts in every _custom_ bouquet (which makes Rudyard blush, for no good reason seeing as the bouquet wasn’t even _meant_ for him) to organize who the sender and the receiver of the flowers are.

And that’s when he sees it, in the florist’s neat handwriting:

_To:_ Rudyard Funn

_From:_ Eric Chapman

The blush comes back and Rudyard doesn’t even try to stop it, nor does he try and stop the smile threatening to escape from his closed lips. He looks up to Eric's desk to see him staring back, an equally dopey smile on the other man’s face.

***

Rudyard opens the blinds of the office windows without turning on the fluorescent lights today, basking in what natural sunlight is actually making it’s way into the room—which wasn’t much at all, thanks to Dunder Mifflin’s brick neighbour. He closes his eyes and breathes in the silence, with the knowledge that in an hour, the place will be crawling with phone calls and drab office gossip.  

What he did not expect, however, was someone to break the silence.

“Rudyard…” Eric says softly, as he enters the dark room, quickly throwing his coat and briefcase onto his desk.

“Chapman?” Rudyard says, turning around from in front of his own desk, where he is adjusting the flower and candy placement, “What are you doing here so early?”

“Taking a huge risk,” Eric breathes, “and doing something possibly very stupid.”

Eric swoops forward, crossing the space between his desk and Rudyard’s in a matter of seconds, before taking Rudyard’s face in both hands and kissing him firmly on the lips.

As he pulls back, he sees Rudyard with his eyes still open and shocked. Eric over-thinks and stresses and decides he’s ruined the only good friendship in his life for the 10 seconds it takes for Rudyard to realize what is happening. After those 10 seconds, Rudyard grabs Eric by his stupid, _stupid_ sweater vest and pulls him back in for a real, open mouthed kiss.

Chapman pushes Rudyard against the reception desk, running his hands through the dark curls that turned out to be just as soft as they looked, and Chapman had dreamed.

“Eric,” Rudyard says softly, almost a breathy moan, which just makes Eric more enthusiastic. Something he honestly didn’t think was possible.

Rudyard’s hands are running over the length of Eric’s back, coming under his dress shirt and vest and (finally) touching the tantalizing skin that Rudyard had been teased with for so long, and trying to pull him closer.

It is passionate and intense, as one would expect it to be after a year or so of tip toeing around each other, but it is at the same time (somehow) tender. Both men knowing that, in this moment, they are both exactly where they are supposed to be.

And they probably would have gone at it all day, if their co-workers had not made their presence known by flipping on the fluorescent lights.


End file.
